


If You Hold Me Without Hurting Me (You’ll Be the First Who Ever Did)

by henriettahoney



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Aftercare, Anal Sex, BUT HAPPY BIRTHDAY LEN!!!!!, Gay, Gay Sex, M/M, Sex, bottom!Adam, i don’t wanna tag anymore I’m tired, idk y’all I’m usually a slut for some dom!adam but this is just what happened here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-23
Updated: 2020-01-23
Packaged: 2021-02-27 16:20:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22380109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/henriettahoney/pseuds/henriettahoney
Summary: Adam isn’t really sure when he stopped bottoming.To be fair, Adam isn’t really sure that he did stop bottoming. Intentionally, anyway. All he knows is that it’s been a long time, and even longer since he hasn’t bottomed from the top. The last handful of times he can remember, he’s still been in control.But not tonight. Not now.
Relationships: Ronan Lynch/Adam Parrish
Comments: 14
Kudos: 270





	If You Hold Me Without Hurting Me (You’ll Be the First Who Ever Did)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PrefectMoony](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrefectMoony/gifts).



Adam isn’t really sure when he stopped bottoming.

To be fair, Adam isn’t really sure that he  _ did  _ stop bottoming. Intentionally, anyway. All he knows is that it’s been a long time, and even longer since he hasn’t bottomed from the top. The last handful of times he can remember, he’s still been in control.

But not tonight. Not now.

Tonight, when Adam came home from work, Ronan sat him down, fed him dinner (literally,  _ fed  _ it to him—wouldn’t let Adam hold his own fork) and instructed him to go upstairs and get himself ready.

There’s never been a real dominant/submissive dynamic to their relationship, but if someone were inclined to ask, Adam figures he’d generally say he makes the majority of the sexual plays. He doesn’t know what’s gotten into Ronan, but whatever it is, it’s gotten Ronan into  _ him _ , so. No complaints.

Not that he could complain if he wanted to. He’s fairly certain he couldn’t form a coherent sentence right now if he tried, save for declarations of pleasure.

Ronan’s got him on his back, rocking his hips up so slow and gentle Adam wouldn’t be able to feel the motions if he weren’t all the way in. But he  _ is _ , so Adam feels  _ everything _ . Every move Ronan makes sends a shockwave through him, and it’s all he can do to keep his eyes from watering from nothing more than how  _ good _ it is.

“Am I hurting you?” Ronan asks, so quiet Adam almost doesn’t hear. He’s bracing Adam with one hand, to hold himself up, but he’s already got the other wrapped loosely around Adam’s cock. He’s not doing much with it, but every time Adam pushes up into it he tightens down just a little, as though telling him to use it as he pleases.

“No,” Adam assures him with a single shake of his head, wrapping one leg around Ronan’s waist to aid his point. “Not at all. You can go harder than that if you need to.”

“I don’t need to do anything else right now.” Ronan’s lips brush Adam’s forehead and he shivers, tilting back to catch his mouth.

There’s something about kissing while you’re being fucked that Adam can’t compare to anything else. He feels like he’s dissolving—like the two separate points of contact are twining together inside his stomach to undo him. 

“You better not be close,” Ronan teases, nudging Adam’s nose with his own. 

Adam feels himself huff a breath of a laugh out his nose, because he is, undeniably, close. But if Ronan doesn’t want him to come yet, he won’t. He’s learned how to pace himself. When your sex life is fully encompassed by a Lynch, you figure out to control your orgasms unless you want watching someone’s hands on a steering wheel to get you off. 

Adam doesn’t say anything, just presses into the bend of Ronan’s neck and sighs, a soft huff of breath against skin. 

It’s late enough now that the sun is starting to set, and the overhead light isn’t on. Flickers of dim illumination flit over Ronan’s chest and stomach with the rapidly shifting clouds, even poised above Adam as he is. Adam could liken the coloring to bruises, but chooses to imagine that it’s paint instead, swathing him in brilliant reds and golds and even indigos, just around the edges. 

“What are you looking at?” Ronan asks, with no bite. 

“You,” Adam tells him. 

Ronan chuckles, soft, and kisses his temple to prompt him to lift his head. “You work too hard,” he says. 

“Do you mean at my job?” Adam asks. “Or fucking you all the time?” He doesn’t know exactly where it comes from. Even when he’s topping, when he  _ is _ in control, he’s never quite so mouthy. He doesn’t mean it negatively, and he’s fairly certain his tone conveys such, but just in case, he tacks on, “‘Cause if that’s what you’re talking about, I promise it’s not— _ fuck _ —it’s not a burden.”

“Work too hard at everything,” Ronan says. He’s tensing up just enough that Adam’s guessing he’s having a hard time staying slow and steady, and Adam’s silently praying for him to break. “But, yeah. That might have been a specific.”

“I’m never gonna say no,” Adam informs him, drawing in a sharp breath as Ronan angles just a little differently—just enough to brush over his prostate right as he’s barely twisting his wrist at the head of Adam’s cock. “To fucking you, I mean. But I’ll never say no to this either.”

“You look different. Like this.” Ronan’s almost hesitant about it, like he doesn’t know how to explain himself but knows Adam’s going to ask. 

“What do you mean?” comes Adam’s inquiry, right on cue. 

“You’re just…” Ronan stops for a moment, halts everything, and takes his hand off Adam’s dick to caress his cheek. “You’re softer. It’s good seeing you let yourself relax for a minute.”

“It  _ feels _ good,” Adam allows himself to admit in a breath. “It  _ always  _ feels good, but this is—different. Kinda nice for you to be calling all the shots, I guess. I don’t have to think about anything too hard.”

“Don’t.” Ronan kisses him, and then whispers it again, against his lips. “Don’t. Don’t think about anything at all.”

Adam’s not used to letting himself get lost to anything, but somehow, for some reason, his brain decides tonight is the night it’s going to listen to Ronan Lynch. He lets go of everything, and for an indiscernible amount of time, there is nothing but a warm, sensuous blur. 

He feels himself asking for things, but he can’t hear the words leaving his mouth. They must be, though, because when his lips form the syllables for, “Harder,” the pressure inside him builds, and when his throat vibrates in time with the words, “ _ Please _ , Ro,” Ronan’s hand is on him again, heavy and sure, and when his numb tongue stumbles over, “Right there. God. Just like that,” Ronan’s stamina is unwavering, jacking him and fucking into him at a pace so precise Adam thinks he might be frustrated at how unreasonable it is if he could form a full thought. 

When his ears are met with soft praise, he realizes that Ronan must be the one speaking now. “Don’t worry, beautiful boy. I’ll get you there. Don’t try to rush it, okay?”

He tries his hardest to verbalize his assent, but the vibration in his chest tells him that all he’s done is moan. 

“There you go.” Ronan’s lips are fire on his cheek, his jaw, his neck. “So good, sweetheart. You okay? Not getting overwhelmed?”

“I’m perfect,” Adam thinks he says. 

That must be it, because it makes Ronan laugh. “Goddamn right, you are. You know I was just teasing you before, yeah? If you need to come, I don’t want you to try to hold it.”

Adam couldn’t swear to what he says now, but he hopes it’s something along the lines of, “I don’t want to yet.”

“Okay,” Ronan tells him, so he figures he’s on the right track. “Okay. I’ll help you hold off as long as you want.”

He doesn’t have a fucking clue how, but he manages to guide Ronan through the painstaking process of edging him, halting him every time his toes begin to tingle or his head feels too light only to prompt him to start back up as soon as the sensation fades. 

“You’re torturing yourself, Parrish,” Ronan finally says, clearly amused. “Are you ready?”

“Are you?” Adam pants back. 

Ronan’s grin is wicked and white. “Been ready since we started.”

It’s amazing how hard Adam’s orgasm hits the second he stops fighting it. It rips through him like lightning, leaving only blinding light and an overall loss of sensation in its wake. 

He’s vaguely aware, on a back burner in his mind, that Ronan is coming  _ inside  _ him, and all that does is intensify it so acutely that a second wave washes over him, nearly dragging him to the depths of unconsciousness. 

Before it can, though, he feels himself being hoisted with incredible care into Ronan’s arms and pries his eyes open, struggling to form what he hopes is an inquisitive expression. 

“I’m taking you to the bathroom,” Ronan informs him, toeing open the bedroom door while watching the frame closely so as not to hit Adam’s head. “You need to pee?”

“Mmm. Mhm,” Adam mumbles, eyes sliding shut again. 

He keeps himself awake enough to stand in front of the toilet, even if maybe Ronan’s supporting him just a little, and as soon as he’s done, Ronan’s scooping him back up and murmuring something about a bath. 

Blink, and they’re in the tub, hot, soothing water caressing the most raw, intimate parts of him. 

Blink, and Ronan’s washing his hair. 

“You don’t have to do all this.”

“I  _ want _ to do all this. Hush. Close your eyes.”

Blink, and there’s a soapy cloth being dragged over his chest. 

Blink, and Ronan’s open mouth is on the back of his shoulder. 

Blink, and Ronan’s getting hard against his hip. 

Adam is suddenly much more awake. 

“You need some more?” he asks, because this is his territory, and as nice as it’s been to switch things up, he’ll never stop intrinsically caring for Ronan. 

But to Adam’s surprise, what Ronan asks for isn’t with his own favor in mind. 

“I really just wanna…Could you get off again? If you tried?”

“I.” Adam’s brain stutters. “Probably, yeah.”

“Just lean back against my chest,” Ronan tells him. 

Adam does. 

Ronan’s fingers are wrapped back around his length, coaxing him back to attention, so fast his head is spinning. If everything was a blur before, it’s a million separate pinpoints now. He can feel every inch of contact between Ronan’s skin and his own, every lavender milk bubble popping on his thighs, every droplet of water splashing up his stomach. 

It’s going to be too fast this time—immediate—but that’s all right. He doesn’t care. They’ve got the rest of their lives, so what difference does it make?

As little concern as Ronan bears for himself in this moment, however, Adam derives more pleasure from  _ Ronan’s  _ pleasure than anything else, so he quietly instructs, “Touch yourself. I’ll handle this.”

Ronan groans, as though he’s the one currently being slain, and does as he’s told. 

It takes them less than two minutes, jacking themselves in tandem, to come, milky white strips starkly evident against the soft foam surrounding them. 

“Well,” Ronan says, chin flush with the top of Adam’s spine, “guess we have to shower now.”

“That’s fine.” Adam reaches back and up, lithe fingers curving over the back of Ronan’s skull. “Gives us an excuse for round three.”

**Author's Note:**

> What’s up it’s ya boi comin atcha with this fic that I wrote for my sweet darling Len’s birthday a literal million years ago and only just remembered that I never posted
> 
> LEN MY BABY MY LOVE IF YOU’RE READING THIS YOU DESERVE ALL THE SMUT ON THE EARTH AND I KNOW I’VE ALREADY SENT YOU THIS FIC PERSONALLY BUT HAPPY HAPPY HAPPY HELLA FUCKIN LATE BIRTHDAY ANYWAY
> 
> (Ps the title is a Lana Del Rey lyric and the birthday girl herself picked it so mad props)


End file.
